4. Dani
4
dani
Dread plagues me the entire drive to Cade’s place. Lady is loaded in the back of the trailer, ready to go to her temporary new home without a hint of concern that she was going to be living with the man who once broke me.
I hate the anxiety I feel as I head toward the place I used to consider my second home.
I hate leaving my mare.
But for Cade to really get a handle on her issue, he needs to work with her several days a week, and it is better for her to be settled than be trailered in every time. I would come as much as I could to watch and see what the issue is when I am not at work.
I only work at the bakery because it affords me the ability to ride at night and keep working on my horse without being glued to working all the time.
In our little town, there wasn’t a place where I could practice equine therapy. Everyone here knew I did it, so often—when I had the right equipment—I would help people out over at my parents’ place in our small arena.
But we weren’t a certified therapy arena, and that was truly a requirement to earn things like recommendations and clients.
Someday, it will happen. I have to hold on to that hope.
As I pull into the courtyard of the Trevors’ place, I watch Cade follow a woman out of his house. She gives him a big smile and stops when she notices me, turning to say something to him before waving and heading to her car.
I step out of my truck and round the front, turning away from the scene. Something in my chest aches at the sight, but I force myself to take a deep breath.
Stop caring, Dani.
I wait, arms crossed as I lean against my trailer, watching him approach me. A timid, small smile on his lips, and he nods his head.
On it is a baseball cap with Fall Springs Lions embroidered on it. A familiar cap he wore in high school all the time from when he played baseball.
I press a hand to my chest, a vision of me taking it off his head and placing it on mine, him grabbing my hips and pulling me to him, his sweaty face pressing against my own. I shake my head and refocus on Cade, who’s now only two feet away.
“Where do you want us?” I ask, skipping the niceties.
He ducks his head, and I just know he’s hiding a bigger smile. No doubt there was some sort of joke running through his head. I roll my eyes up into the air when he’s not looking. It’s almost easy to forget how badly he hurt me when we slip into this comfortable space.
It should be weird. Should be awkward as hell and maddening that he’s able to bring out my sassy and assertive side so well.
Absolutely maddening.
“Come on, we’ll head into the barn and get her acquainted.” I follow as he moves to the back of the trailer and step in front of him when he tries to open the door before me.
I hate when men step in front of me and assume I need them to do things. What did he think? That I had some sort of butler at my place who loaded my damn horse? He put my boots on too?
I shake my head in exasperation at myself. I was being ridiculous, and I knew it.
Thankfully, my internal dialogue kept me from blurting out stupid things to my ex.
Briefly, I felt Cade come up behind me and perhaps it was the Colorado sun beating down on us relentlessly, but I could have sworn I felt the heat of his body through my shirt.
I pull the trailer door open, and he steps back, letting me step up into the trailer.
“Whoa, girl.” I talk in a soothing voice to calm Lady’s nerves. She chuffs a bit but settles when I pull open the stall divider and unclip her halter from the hook. She turns her big body around and follows me out of the trailer.
Cade watches with a calm demeanor and leads us both into the barn.
“You can put her in here for now. I think Sadie will like her.”
The second Lady gets a whiff of the sorrel mare she lets out a high-pitched squeal, gives an adventurous toss of her head, and stomps back. Sadie, affronted by the offensive sound, gives a loud kick to the side of her stall.
“Ah, mares,” Cade comments casually. “Maybe not, then. ”
I chastise Lady for her behavior which she completely ignores.
“Come on, she can go next to General. He never gives anyone trouble.”
I swallow the urge to apologize and make to follow him.
Lady hangs her head slightly and has the nerve to look embarrassed. I guide her into the stall he points out, and she sniffs the nose of the horse next to her, her tail swatting a little before she turns her attention to the ground, sniffing out any kind of feed she might find.
I step out of the stall and hang her halter on the peg on her door.
“I think they’ll settle in fine,” Cade says, leaning against the stall and observing them.
“Sure,” I reply, distracted, organizing my thoughts so I can focus and get out of there. The less time I have to spend on this ranch, the better. “Do you have a schedule? I’d like to be here when you work with her.”
Slowly, he turns and looks at me. His attention makes me squirm, like I’m under a microscope, and I quickly avert my gaze to my hands, pretending to pick at a nail.
“Sure, we can work it out.” He scratches his scruff and looks away, back at the horses. I wonder if he’s thinking not looking at me is safe, kind of like I’m doing now. “I usually work in the mornings when it’s not so hot.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll try to get time off. Tomorrow?”
He nods, his brows furrowing, and I can tell he’s about to ask more questions to keep this conversation going. But I can’t do it. “Wh?—”
“I have to head out,” I cut him off. The temptation to talk and draw out this interaction is too familiar, and if I’m not smart, I’ll end up falling into the routine of us.
There is no us . And if I was going to make it through our little arrangement, then I had to continue to build on that barrier that was already wedged between us.
“All right, see you tomorrow.”
Before he can say anything else, I rush out to my truck, my shaking fingers grasping for my phone and speed dialing my mom, knowing if anyone can talk me off my emotional ledge, it’s her.
I glance out my side mirror as the tone dials and see Cade standing there watching me go. Just like he used to when we were young.
How can a memory like that hurt so badly, even years later?
A blur of activity bursts through the door of Bottle Grounds, a new place that a group of sisters—the Weavers—opened just on the edge of town.
The story is that their parents died in an unfortunate plane crash and left the girls with enough money to buy and open their own businesses. The girls aren’t locals, and I’m not sure what drove them here, but they’ve quickly settled into our little community.
Before Bottle Grounds came to be, there was a small bar that we would go to for dancing and drinking, but it was worn down. The owners eventually called it quits and shut it down.
So, now we had Bottle Grounds, which was a hit for the entire town whether you came for a beer after work, some dancing with friends, a fruity cocktail with the girls, or in my case, a vent session with my mom.
My mom was my best friend. She knew everything about me and was the only one—besides my meddling cousins—who knew the details of my and Cade’s breakup .
Anyway, that burst of activity at the door? That was my mother.
“Sandra!” several voices call from around the room, making me smile and roll my eyes at the same time.
In every small town, there is always a person. You know, the one, the one everyone knows and loves. The one who is a beacon in the community, the one who would always go out of their way for everyone else. That was my mother.
And as much as I love that for her, that everyone wants a piece of her attention, I was desperate for her to get over to this table.
My phone call as I left the ranch was simple. I simply asked her to ditch Dad at the store—the one my family owned and ran in Acton—and meet me here so I could talk through my anxiety.
There were very few times in my life when I was this caught up in my emotions. I usually prefer to bury them in copious amounts of food and humor.
“Sandra,” I call out to her, knowing it will be the only way to gain her attention. She turns her head and glares at me before saying goodbye to one of the Weaver sisters.
“Good grief, Danielle,” Mom grouses as she slides into the bench seat across from me. She’s the only one who calls me that, and it’s because most people know that I hate my name.
“You and I both know it was the only way to gain your attention. Mrs. Mason would have talked your ear off for hours.” I take a sip of my Mai Tai, which is Thea Weaver’s special, thinking about the old lady, Mrs. Mason. She is the local writer for the tiniest newspaper in existence, and she thrives on all things drama.
“Not true. You’re my daughter. You come first.” She orders her own Mai Tai from Jason, the senior who works here part time to save for his own business. I used to babysit him when he was little. Seeing him in a uniform working for a living when I used to change his diapers is a feeling of “old” I never wanted to feel.
“So,” she starts, turning her attention to me. “How did it go? Did Lady get settled?”
“Yeah, she was a little pissy at first but calmed down.”
“Mares.”
“Yup.”
She thanks Jason for her drink and then gives me a look. “And how was seeing Cade?”
I shrug and rub a hand over my mouth, unsure how to put my turbulent thoughts into order. I felt like I had a mountain of thoughts ready to tumble out of my mouth the moment I left the ranch, but now it’s harder to put those thoughts into actual coherent words.
“Come on, you can tell me anything.” She gives me a knowing look. “There will be no judgment from me.”
I nod at her words, finding the comfort I need in her reassurance. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to find a big ol’ pile of horse manure and throw him in it, and another part of me wants to grab his stubborn face and kiss it off.”
Mom chuckles and nods. “That’s understandable.”
I tilt my head. “Is it?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She chuckles, waving a hand at me. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to strangle your father. There’re just so many times when men really know how to step in it. Even after thirty years of marriage, there are days I can’t stand the man. Doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
I purse my lips before I take another sip of my drink. Then I voice my biggest problem. “He really hurt me.”
She reaches across the table and pats my hand. “ I know he did. He handled his mother’s sickness horribly.” I see her eyes mist and swallow hard. We loved Donna Trevors. She was a light in our community right alongside my mom, and her death put a dent in all of us. “It’s not an excuse for how he acted. How he went about breaking things off was rough. But he was young, and it was a huge life change.”
I bite my lip, barely containing the words on my lips or the tears in my eyes.
“The biggest thing you need to ask yourself is, can you forgive him?”
“I must be crazy,” I sigh.
“Well, you know what they say about horse girls.”
She winks, and I laugh. “We’re the best kind of crazy.”
We laugh, and when it tapers off, I ask something I’ve been thinking about for far longer than I want to admit.
“What if he doesn’t care about my forgiveness? What if…what if we really can’t go back?”
Mom sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “Well, then, he really isn’t worth your tears. And maybe it’s a sign to move on.”
Another local comes over to the table and distracts us from our conversation, and while my mom and her talk about sourdough starters, my mind whirs with thoughts. Feelings that have reignited since seeing Cade again.
My worst fear was one I didn’t voice to anyone.
How could I possibly move on now when I haven’t been able to for the last six years?